I just fed my daughter’s corn dog to the cat.
Now, before you get all up on my junk about giving my daughter (or the cat for that matter) a corn dog, hear me out.
I had never even had a corn dog until I was in my 20′s. And when I discovered how yummy they were with mustard, I vowed that my children would not grow up without their white trashy goodness. As for the cat, he got the corn dog because I was going to eat it. And I really, really didn’t want to eat it. But I did really want to eat it. But I knew I shouldn’t.
Yes, I’m dieting again. And feeding the cat the corn dog was an act of a desperate woman. It was that or I was going to eat it.
God I love food. I’ve officially been dieting since I woke up this morning, and all I can think about is the box of corn dogs in the freezer, and the package of lemon, sugar glazed scones on the counter.
And then I remember I just want to fit into my jeans. That’s all. Just my jeans.
Help me. Help me. Help me not eat.